The Fat Girls Club

Chatpter 7

“We are not going by that,” Noor declares, and Paisley still hasn’t stopped snickering, slapping her hand on her knee.

“I love it,” Zenaida admits softly, with a small smile playing on her lips. She is the last person I would have expected to like the name and I grin right back at her, at least one person is happy.

“How do you think people are going to take us if we go by that?” Noor protests, “You might be okay being the school’s laughingstock but count me out.” She slings her backpack over her shoulder, getting ready to leave. Ouch, that one hurt.

“Hear the girl out,” Sarai says reflectively, as if still unsure of the name herself.

“So, that’s the thing,” I begin, “people won’t know until the very end. It dampens our impact if people know this is an organized attack. They will find a way to separate us and strike if they know what we are doing, hence why we are meeting in here.” I gesture to the dingy basement.

“And by attack us, surely you are talking about yourself because last time I checked you are the only person that would let people publicly torment her without sticking out for herself or even reporting them,” Noor retaliates and a lump catches in my throat. I can feel all the girls’ eyes on me and in my head I can see myself getting up and telling her off, telling her that she’s completely wrong about me, that I do back myself, but I don’t. I sit there holding back tears because nothing about what she’s said is wrong.

“Exactly my point,” she remarks smugly, sitting back down in her chair and crossing her arms.

“Will you give it a rest?” Zenaida orders, turning to Noor with an expression that doesn’t look quite right on her usually sweet features.

“I handpicked each and every one of you because we all have our own individual strengths and bring something different to the club,” I speak up, “Sarai you are easily the most popular girl in this room.” She flips her short red hair and casually waves off my compliment. “Zenaida, you’re the sweetest girl I have ever met, and I trust that you are going to be the one that guides us in doing everything with kindness.” She blushes at that and covers her face with her hands, her sweater sleeves only allowing her fingertips to peak through. “Valencia, I know you’re taking all AP classes and I am certain that you could easily give Heather a run for her money if actually gave it all your best,” I point out and her bashful reaction confirms my assumption, she’s holding back to avoid the spotlight. “Noor you have the kind of confidence that makes everyone in the room turn their heads. No matter your weight, you command every room you walk into and with pride,” I confess, and she scoffs at that, but I can tell she’s trying to hide a smile. “And finally, Paisley, you are badass. Plain and simple as that.”

“I like the sound of that,” Paisley grins, “Let’s get our revenge on!”

“Phase 1 is parties.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and even Noor has kept quiet to listen, “The goal of this is not to just go to parties and get wasted but to get people talking about us in more than just one way. We must approach this as if we are individuals, we do not arrive together, and we do not leave together otherwise our whole mission will be compromised and we will just be seen as the big girls banding together.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing, though?” Valencia asks, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Yes, but they don’t know that yet,” I say smugly, “this way, we will be increasing our popularity without it being too obvious and we are going to need that when it comes to the later stages of the plan.”

“What exactly are these later stages?” Sarai asks, raising her hand politely as if in class.

“You’ll see,” I smirk.

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The next few days are spent meeting in the basement for 30 minutes every day after school. I still haven’t spoken to the principal and I don’t think I will. This plan will jeopardize everything that her school stands for and ruin her perfect Hall of Fame. Well we aren’t looking for perfect, we are striving for realistic and that is exactly what I have in mind for tonight’s party.

I have been on Skype with all of the girls for the past 2 hours, each of us getting advice from Sarai on what to wear to the party. Noor on the other hand has just been munching away on popcorn while laughing at all of our struggles. She’s opted out of the party because of her beliefs and I totally understand, I don’t think she would be much fun anyway. She would probably insult more people than make friends, which is one of the objectives tonight. Talking to people who we nerve had thought about approaching before, starting with the quiet ones then working our ay upwards.

“Try the dress without the cardigan, Val,” Sarai instructs a shy Valencia who is trying on her fifth different outfit, this one seeming to please Sarai much more than the others. I decided that it made most sense for us to wear clothes that we already own instead of going shopping and changing our style, that would defeat the purpose of doing this as us. Anyway, Sarai is an expert stylist and can upgrade and boring outfit with a few adjustments and accessories.

“There you go! You look stunning,” Sarai beams and her eyes moves back and forth on her computer screen and I’m sure she is surveying her hard work on all of us.

I’ve got on a knee-length lilac dress that my mom got for me a while ago but I never had anywhere to wear it and to add a bit of my own twist, I paired it with a pair of combat boots that were hidden in the back of my closet. I would have never been confident enough to wear this outfit but with the girls’ and even Noor’s approval, I feel amazing.

Sarai is dressed in a preppy mini skirt, paired with a white blouse and knee-high socks and on anyone else I would deem the outfit a bit tacky but on her it looks straight out of a fashion magazine. The skirt hugs her in all the right places and she has just enough cleavage showing to pass as accidental and not forced, her fiery hair decorated with delicate flowers.

Valencia is in a long red dress that she said she stole out of her mothers’ closet and she looks like a vintage babe. The dress is both casual and stylish simultaneously and her long black hair that falls behind her in waves makes her look like she has just stepped out of an old vampire novel to take your heart.

Zen is dressed in high waisted light wash jeans and a cute, oversized cardigan that she’s tucked in the top. She is giving girl next door vibes and her dark curly waves have been let out of her usual ponytail and rest on her shoulders, making her look even more innocent.

Paisley is dressed in all black with dark jeans that have chains hanging out the sides of them along with graphic tee and leather jacket. The only contrast to this is her long white hair that has been tied in a bun on the top of her hair. A few strands escape the bun, framing her face elegantly and I can’t help but notice how beautiful she actually is in that moment. They all look beautiful.

After going through the plan a few more times, we are set to go and Noor bids us a good luck before logging off and so follow the rest of the girls. This is it, tonight is the first night where we make history, where we rewrite stereotypes, and where we create memories.

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“Remember no drinking, no taking of any substances, and no kissing random boys,” my mom instructs, turning to look at me in the back seat. Her words are serious, but she’s actually been in a good mood ever since I told her about the party, if anything she looked close to tears.

“Mom!” I shriek at that last part, covering my heated face with my hands. My dad laughs at my reaction, looking back at me through the rear-view mirror.

“Don’t mom me, I was seventeen too once, I know what goes down these parties,”

“I bet you do,” my dad says suggestively, and I have to stop myself from gagging but thankfully my mom swats him on the arm, so I don’t have to.

“Our daughter is in the car, Byron,” my mom gasps, feigning outrage with the ghost of a smile dancing behind her plump lips. She could never be mad at my dad for all the love he gives her even if it does include sly, inappropriate joes around their daughter.

“How does she think she was made?” My dad smirks and immediately starts laughing at his own little comment.

“Okay, and on that note we are here. Thank you for the ride. I will see you in a few hours and no I will not be drinking, taking substances or kissing anyone.” I rush out of the car before my mom starts crying and when I hear her sniffle I turn back and lean on her open window with my elbows, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be fine mom.”

“I know,” she sniffles and flashes a smile.

“Leave before she decides to shove you back in her womb and keep you there forever.” My dad winks at me and my mom swats him again and, on that note, I walk up the stony stairs of the Turner mansion.

“Tell Katherine and Steven we said hi!” My mom shouts after me and I roll my eyes, she couldn’t pay me enough to do that.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Zen hopping out of her dad’s truck and it takes everything in me not to wave at her, instead I just nod discreetly and she does the same except not so discreetly.

The walkway to the door is line with perfectly shaped shrubs that quickly distinguish this part of town compared to our little neighborhood of identical houses. There are a few stragglers from the party sitting on the clean-cut lawn, strategically hidden by the shrubs from the street view. There is not much music coming from inside and if it weren’t for the stragglers and dozens of memories of coming her as a child with my parents, I wouldn’t be so sure I was I the right place.

Walking through the big double doors at the front of the house is much easier than I expected. In my mind I was prepared to bargain ad hustle through bouncers or even the twins themselves would be standing at the door telling me that I wasn’t invited. But there is none of that, instead right inside the door is a long table filled with red solo cups and a giant punch both, above a sign that reads no drink, no entry.

I look back to make sure my parents aren’t still lingering down the driveway and when I see that they’re gone, I grab a cup and fill it with the fruity smelling liquid. I just have to remember not to drink it. I make sure to fill it just halfway, so it looks as though I’ve drank some already and people don’t see me carrying a full cup.

There’s a second set of closed doors in the foyer and its deathly quiet until I push through the heavy-set wooden doors, and it all hit me at once. The extravagant house almost looks as if it was built for parties with how the soundproof doors open to a large open plan area from which you can see the kitchen, dining room, and living room simultaneously. There are people dancing and grinding from where I stand up until the kitchen which opens up to the backyard areas where I’m sure I can hear girls squealing and splashing in the pool. The smell is something I have never experienced before and it’s this musty but somehow sickly-sweet smell that clings to everything ad I’m not quite sure if its B.O mixed with perfume or vape flavor but I can already tell that the first thing I’m going to have to do when I get home is immediately wash my hair.

My hand reaches up to touch my two puffy pigtails and to my dismay they have already started shrinking with the dense humidity in this room.

I make my way through the crowd of sweaty bodies, my “excuse me’s” and “sorry’s” falling upon deaf ears. I let out an exasperated sigh when I finally reach the kitchen, barely able to hear my own thinking over the loud music.

 I stand against the counter and I’m not exactly sure what t do with myself. I spend all week planning and delegating tasks for the girls that I forgot to give myself something to do. I’ve been encouraging them all to be social butterflies all week and find their people because as I emphasized to them, most thing in in school are done by democracy and votes, except of course when it comes to the twins. I’m not sure more than five people have ever voted for Heather for student body president but I’m certain an overwhelming number of votes for another person would be difficult for even the principal to ignore.

“What are you doing here?” I deep voice rasps in my ear and I gulp. I was hoping I would be able to avoid him. I’m not exactly sure why I don’t want to see Kallum, but I don’t think it would be beneficial for my girls to see me talking to one of my supposed tormentors.

“Am I not allowed to be here?” I look up at the boy who’s usually hard features are softened and there a pink tinge to his cheeks. He’s dressed in similar dark jeans to the ones he wore t my house, paired with a white t-shirt this time and once again I can’t stop myself from staring at his tattoos.

“No- I mean yes,” he stutters, and I’ve never heard him stumble over his words before, “Its just not your scene.” He shrugs and his movements are slow and combined with his slurred speaking, I’m sure he’s not drinking water in his cup.

“Well it’s my scene now.” I cross my arms over my chest, making sure not to spill my cup all over my dress.

“Really now?” He stands in front of me blocking my view from the rest of the party and has to lean in to my ear to shout over the loud music and I can’t help but shudder when I feel his breath tickle the shell of my ear.

“Yup,” I say popping the P, trying to seem as casual as he is.

“Show me,” he whispers hotly in my ear before stepping back and looking at me with a smug smile, a single dimple making an appearance.

“What?” My arms fall from my chest and casual act falls apart.

“Show me. C’mon, show me how much this is your scene. I obviously haven’t been around to witness such a development.” His smile grows bigger and for a second my anxiety dissipates and we’re back in his treehouse, laughing for hours at absolutely nothing.

“Fine.” I down my cup with determination and the taste is actually not as bad as I had anticipated, its actually quite sweet with a tinge of a bitter aftertaste.

His boisterous laugh shocks me and he starts clapping animatedly looking at me with a sort of fondness I have never seen in those chocolate eyes before. I can already feel a certain buzz travelling through my veins, making my movements lighter, easier. He leans in down to my ear and the beat of the music makes me sway slightly, is lips brushing against my cheek as he talks. I can’t help but lean in closer.

“I’m glad to see you still never bad down from a challenge. I’ve missed-”

Our little moment is interrupted by a loud crash in the direction of the living room and he abruptly pulls away from me. I suddenly feel cold at the loss of my human shield and a shiver runs up the length of my arm. I’m not sure if the cold is from the breeze that wafts through from the door that’s open to the backyard or from the lack of Kallum’s warmth.

It must have been something big that broke considering it could be heard over the music. I look at Kallum and his brows are scrunched together and many of the people round us have the same look on their faces. I guess I’m not the only one that noticed.

Kallum has turned and his eyes are searching the crowd.

“Wait here,” he instructs gravely, not taking his eyes off of a certain spot in the crowd. I so desperately want him to finish his sentence from before but the look of fondness on his face has been replaced with a certain malice and before I can ask him what’s wrong he’s already taken off in the direction of the crash. The music has been significantly lowered and when I hear yelling, my feet move on their own accord in following him.

Someone slams into my shoulder so hard that I almost go tumbling to the ground. The impact makes my head spin but before I can collide with the ground, someone’s hands are holding my waist and steading me.

I’m about to thank them but they aren’t letting go of my waist. Their head is covered by a hoodie and I can’t really see their face in the darkness. I can tell it’s a guy by how large his frame is and the intensifying grip that quickly becomes painful. Panic starts to rise within me, and no one around seems to notice my struggle. With the way he’s holding me so close and intimately, one would just easily assume that we were dancing like many of the other couples in here.

“What the hell?” I try and pry his hands off of me, but the guy is unrelenting and its starting to hurt, “let go of me,” I gasp, fear starting to cloud my mind.

“I’m back,” a grating voice speaks in my ear and I immediately stop fidgeting, my blood running cold.

I know that voice. I could never forget that voice and immediately I feel like clawing at my neck to remove the remanence of his touch the last time he was this close to me. Except this time, I feel it in my waist where his hands are firmly placed, I feel it everywhere.

“Surprise,” Landon takes off his hood and smiles a wide toothed grin down at me.